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Mary  J.    L,    McDonald 


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(Recipe  fot  a 

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Copyright,  1 9 1 1 

by  Paul  Elder  and  Company 

San  Francisco 


in^ri^    X  L.     |V\^  0^«^i^^<i 


(Recipe  for  a 


^appg  Bife 


Margaret  of  Angouleme^  ^een  of  Navarre  and  chief  patroness 
of  letters  in  the  early  half  of  the  sixteenth  century,  was  also  a  poet 
and  writer  herself  of  no  mean  degree.  A  woman  of  broad  religious 
interests,  serious  and  learned  for  her  time,  a  time  when  women  were 
seldom  either  serious  or  learned,  she  has  combined  for  us  today,  as 
well  as  for  her  own  generation,  the  sane  ingredients  for  a  well 
rounded  and  happy  life.  It  is  a  long  way  back  to  her  day  and  in 
many  details  of  morals  and  of  manners  life  has  assumed  changed 
aspeBs,  but  we  feel  anew,  when  we  read  her  words,  that  it  is  for- 
ever unchangeable  in  its  essentials. 

Marie  West  King  has  thoughtfully  seleBed  passages  from  later 
writers,  expanding  the  suggestions  in  §lueen  Margaret' s  "  Recipe 
for  a  Happy  Life,''  and  opening  for  us  ??iany  pleasant  by-paths 
for  their  application. 

"The  thoughts  so  delightfully  chosen  by  Miss  King  are  culled 
from  the  literature  of  the  ages,  and  there  are  bits  from  younger  and 
some  from  much  older  writers  than  Margaret  of  Navarre.  Many 
are  of  that  quality  which  does  not  die ;  others  are  merely  appealing 
little  sayings  which,  being  colloquially  stated,  pass  away  with  their 
generation,  but  their  essence  being  permanent  they  are  co7istantly 
being  resurreBed  in  new  form,  as  blossoms  which  bloofn  and  fade 
and  bloom  again. 

Surely,  no  beautiful  thing  can  die. 


(Recipe  for  a 


^appg  Bife 


"I  J      *!      (ggS 


HJtiitat  6p  QVlargaref  of  (Uat^arre  in  t^t 

/y^^HREE  ounces  are  necessary,  first  of  ^''^Patience^ 
^/y  Then,  of  ^^^  Repose  &?  Peace;  of  ^'""^  Conscience 

A  pound  entire  is  needful; 
Of  ^"^^ Pastimes  of  all  sorts,  too, 

Should  be  gathered  as  much  as  the  hand  can  hold; 
Oi^"^^ Pleasant  Memory  &f  of  Hope  three  good  drachms 
There  must  be  at  least.  But  they  should  moistened  be 
With  a  liquor  made  from  ^^^^True  Pleasures  which  re- 
joice the  heart. 
Then  oi^^^^ Love's  Magic  Drops ^  a  few — 
But  use  them  sparingly,  for  they  may  bring  a  flame 
Which  naught  but  tears  can  drown. 
Grind  the  whole  and  mix  therewith  o(^^^ Merriment ^ 

an  ounce 
To  even.  Yet  all  this  may  not  bring  happiness 
Except  in  your  ^^""^  Orisons  you  lift  your  voice 
To  Him  who  holds  the  gift  of  health. 

Note:   The  text  following  is  subdivided  under  the  heads  of  the  "ingredients"  of  the  Recipe,  the  numerals 
z,  8,  14,  io,  26,  33,  37,  44  and  50  referring  to  the  commencing  pages. 


patience 


owEVER  sore  to  flesh  and  blood, 
I  hold  this  thing  as  true; 
The  way  that  God  selects, —  appoints 
Is  ever  best  for  you. 

However  sharp  the  flints  that  press 
The  tender  feet,  unshod ; 
I  hold  the  roughest  path  may  lead 
To  closer  walk  with  God. 

—  Mrs.  Mary  M.  Gunnison. 


Patience  is  a  plant 
That  grows  not  in  all  gardens. 

—  Longfellow. 


Come  what  come  may. 
Time  and  the  hour  runs  through  the 
roughest  day. 


Patience  is  powerful. 

—  Longfellow. 


^ap^jg  j^ife 


3 


ounces  cire  neceBsatg,  fJrsf  of 


(patience 


Patience;  accomplish  thy  labor;  accomplish  thy  work 

of  affection ! 
Sorrow  and  silence  are  strong,  and  patient  endurance  is 

godlike. 
Therefore  accomplish  thy  labor  of  love,  till  the  heart  is 

made  godlike. 

Purified,   strengthened,  perfected,   and    rendered    more 

worthy  of  heaven.  .. 

-'  — Longfellow. 


There  is  a  day  of  sunny  rest 

For  every  dark  and  troubled  night ; 
And  grief  may  bide  an  evening  guest. 

But  joy  shall  come  with  early  light. 


* 


•x- 


* 


* 


* 


For  God  hath  marked  each  sorrowing  day 
And  numbered  every  secret  tear. 

And  heaven's  long  age  of  bliss  shall  pay 
For  all  his  children  suffer  here. 

—  Bryant. 


One  day  at  a  time. 


Selected. 


ouncea  arc  neceaaarg,  ftsi  of 

^aficna" 



^oge 

4 

(Hecipe  for  a 

(patience 


Be  still,  sad  heart,  and  cease  repining ; 
Behind  the  clouds  is  the  sun  still  shining; 
Thy  fate  is  the  common  fate  of  all, 
Into  each  life  some  rain  must  fall, 
Some  days  must  be  dark  and  dreary. 

— Longfellow. 

Let  nothing  disturb  thee. 

Nothing  affright  thee; 

All  things  are  passing; 

God  never  changeth; 

Patient  endurance 

Attaineth  to  all  things; 

Who  God  possesseth 

In  nothing  is  wanting. 

Alone  God  sufficeth. 

—  Longfellow. 


Endurance  is  the  crowning  quality, 
And  patience  all  the  passion  of  great  hearts. 

— Lowell. 

Self  conquest  is  the  greatest  of  victories. 

—  Plato. 


^aiimu 


JOGGIN*    ErLONG 

De  da'kest  hour,  dey  alius  say. 

Is  des'  befo'  de  dawn. 

But  it's  moughty  ha'd  a-waitin' 

Were  de  night  goes  frownin'  on; 

An'  it's  moughty  ha'd  a-hopin* 

Wen  de  clouds  is  big  an'  black, 

An'  all  de  t'ings  you's  waited  for 

Has  failed,  er  gone  to  wrack  — 

But  des'  keep  on  a-joggin'  wid  a  little  bit  o'  song, 

De  mo'n  is  alius  brightah  w'en  de  night's  been  long. 

Dey's  lots  o'  knocks  you's  got  to  tek 
Befo*  yo'  journey 's  done. 
An'  dey's  times  w'en  you'll  be  wishin' 
Dat  de  weary  race  was  run; 
W'en  you  want  to  give  up  try  in* 
And  des'  float  erpon  de  wave, 
W'en  you  don't  feel  no  mo'  sorrer 
Ez  yo'  t'ink  erbout  de  grave  — 
Den,  des'  keep  on  a-joggin'  wid  a  little  bit  o'  song, 
De  mo'n  is  alius  brightah  w'en  de  night's  been  long. 

—  Paul  Laurence  Dunbar. 


ounces  are  necefifiatg,  fxBi  of 


(JJage 

6 


(patience 


oft  the  cloud  which  wraps  the  present  hour 
Serves  but  to  brighten  all  our  future  days. 

—  John  Brown. 


The  Road  'll  Turn  Some  Day 

I  know  the  road  is  rocky. 

And  the  hills  are  hard  to  climb; 
I  know  the  feet  get  bruised  and  sore. 

And  it  takes  heaps  o'  time. 
I  know  the  burden  's  heavy  — 

O,  you  need  n't  tempt  to  say ; 
But  just  keep  plodding  onward  — 

For  the  road  '11  turn  some  day ! 

I  know  that  homesick  feeling, 

And  the  ache  you  bear  alone; 
I  know  your  heart  is  breaking. 

By  the  bravely  stifled  moan. 
I  know  the  arm  you  leaned  upon 

Has  now  no  power  to  stay ; 
But  just  keep  a  plodding  onward  — 

For  the  road '11  turn  some  day  ! 


r 


ounces  are  necesBarg,  ftai  of 
^ofience" 


(patience 


I  know  the  structures  you  have  hewn 

Of  youth  day-dreams  lie  low; 
I  know  you  see  their  ruins  stare 

Everywhere  you  go. 
I  know  the  sunbeams  round  your  path 

Long  since  have  ceased  to  play; 
But  just  keep  a-ploddin*  onward  — 

For  the  road  '11  turn  some  day. 

— Selected. 

So  nigh  is  grandeur  to  our  dust. 

So  near  is  God  to  man; 
When  duty  whispers  low,  "  Thou  must !  " 

The  heart  replies,  "  I  can  \" 

— Emerson. 

How  smooth  the  sea-beach  pebbles  are  I 

But,  do  you  know  ? 

The  ocean  worked  a  hundred  years 

To  make  them  so  !  ..^  _,   „ 

—  Henrietta  R.  Illiot. 


There  is  no  crown  in  the  world  so  good  as  patience. 

— Selected. 


't^n,  of  QRc^Jose  ani>  ^eoce' 


(Reci^^e  for  a 


QPlepoee  anb  (peace 


'HESE  should  be  hours  for  necessities. 
Not  for  delights;  times  to  repair  our  nature 
With  comforting  repose,  and  not  for  us 
To  waste  these  times.  —Shakespeare. 


Rest  that  strengthens  unto  virtuous  deeds. 

Is  one  with  prayer.  —Bayard  Taylor. 


There  is  rest  for  all  things.    On  still  nights 

There  is  a  folding  of  a  million  wings  — 

The  swarming  honey-bees  in  unknown  woods. 

The  speckled  butterflies  and  downy  broods 

In  dizzy  poplar  heights : 

Rest  for  innumerable  nameless  things. 

Rest  for  the  creatures  underneath  the  Sea, 

And  in  the  Earth,  and  in  the  starry  Air. 

—  T.  B.  Aldrich, 


In  peace,  there  's  nothing  so  becomes  a  man 
As  modest  stillness  and  humility. 


—  Shakespeare. 


^(^ipp^  ^ife 


9 


'^!^n,  of  (gc|)O0c  cinb  ^eace" 


(]Plepo0e  anb  (peace 


Of  all  our  loving  Father's  gifts, 
I  often  wonder  which  is  best, — 
And  cry :   Dear  God,  the  one  that  lifts 
Our  souls  from  weariness  to  rest. 
The  rest  of  Silence, —  that  is  best. 

—  Mary  Clemmer. 


Calm  and  unruffled  as  a  summer  sea, 
When  not  a  breath  of  wind  flies  o'er  its  surface. 

—  Addison. 


At  peace  with  God  and  the  world. 


—  Longfellow. 


A  gentleman  makes  no  noise ;  a  lady  is  serene. 

—  Emerson. 


Wise  men  read  very  sharply  all  your  private 
history  in  your  look,  and  gait,  and  behavior. 

—  Emerson. 


10 


(Jteci^^e  for  a 


(Jlepo0e  ani  ^eace 

Hard  work  is  good  an'  wholesome,  past 

all  doubt; 
But  't  ain't  so,  ef  the  mind  gits  tuckered 


out. 


Lowell. 


To  sit  as  idle  as  the  grass 
Watching  the  clouds  make  pictures  in  the  air. 

—  Alice  Gary. 


Worry  is  the  rust  of  the  soul. 


—  Selected. 


Silken  rest 
Tie  all  thy  cares  up. 


—  Beaumont  &  Fletcher. 


Today  let  us  enjoy  ourselves.  Sorrows,  joys, 
tears,  smiles,  go  in  and  out  before  us.  Happy  the 
man  who  contentedly  resigns  himself  to  his  fate. 

—  Selected. 


^appj  Bife 

qpase 

11 

"^n,  of  QRe^JOBe  anb  QpMwe" 

Q^epo^e  anb  (peace 

What,  what  is  virtue,  but  repose  of  mind, 
A  pure  ethereal  calm,  that  knows  no  storm ; 
Above  the  reach  of  wild  Ambition's  wind. 
Above  those  passions  that  this  world  deform. 
And  torture  man. 


—  Thomson. 


There  was  a  soft  and  pensive  grace, 
A  cast  of  thought  upon  her  face. 
That  suited  well  the  forehead  high. 
The  eyelash  dark,  and  downcast  eye : 
The  mild  expression  spoke  a  mind 
In  duty  firm,  composed,  resigned. 


Scott. 


Whate'er  he  did  was  done  with  so  much  ease. 
In  him  alone  't  was  natural  to  please. 

—  Dryden. 


Soft  words,  with  nothing  in  them,  make  a  song. 

—  Waller. 


12 


(Recipe  for  a 


QPlepo^e  CiY{b  (J)eace 


Peace 

With  eager  heart  and  will  on  fire, 
I  fought  to  win  my  great  desire; 
"Peace  shall  be  mine,'*  I  said;  but  life 
Grew  bitter  in  the  weary  strife. 

My  soul  was  tired,  and  my  pride 
Was  wounded  deep;  to  Heaven  I  cried, 
"God  grant  me  peace  or  I  must  die"; 
The  dumb  stars  glittered  no  reply. 

Broken  at  last,  I  bowed  my  head. 
Forgetting  all  myself,  and  said, 
"Whatever  comes.  His  will  be  done"; 
And  in  that  moment  peace  was  won. 

—  Henry  Van  Dyke. 


Peace  is  the  evening  star  of  the  soul,  as  virtue  is  its 
sun;  and  the  two  are  never  far  apart. 

COLTON. 


13 


^3«n.  of  QRe^Jose  cinb  ^eoce" 


Q^po0e  anb  ^eace 


Have  you  known  how  to  compose  your  manners  ? 
You  have  done  a  great  deal  more  than  he  who  has  com- 
posed books.  Have  you  known  how  to  take  repose? 
You  have  done  more  than  he  who  has  taken  cities  and 


empires. 


—  Montaigne. 


Peace  does  not  dwell  in  outward  things,  but  within 
the  soul;  we  may  preserve  it  in  the  midst  of  the  bit- 
terest pain,  if  our  will  remain  firm  and  submissive. 
Peace  in  this  life  springs  from  acquiescence,  not  in  an 
exemption  from  suffering. 


—  Fenelon. 


Nothing  can  bring  you  peace  but  yourself.    Noth- 
ing can  bring  you  peace  but  the  triumph  of  principles. 


Emerson. 


"*  *  of  C^onsctence 
(J  ^unb  enfite  is  neebfuf " 


14 


(Recipe  for  a 


Conscience 

E  THAT  has  light  within  his  own  clear  breast, 

May  sit  i'  the  centre,  and  enjoy  bright  day; 

But  he  that  hides  a  dark  soul,  and  foul  thoughts, 

Benighted  walks  under  the  midday  sun ; 

Himself  is  his  own  dungeon.  _ , 

°  — Milton. 


Man's  conscience  is  the  oracle  of  God. 

—  Byron. 


He  will  easily  be  content  and  at  peace,  whose 

conscience  is  pure.  ^  v  ^ 

^  — Thomas  A  Kempis. 


Conscience  is  harder  than  our  enemies, 
Knows  more,  accuses  with  more  nicety. 

—  George  Eliot. 


A  quiet  conscience  makes  one  so  serene. 

—  Byron. 


^appj  j^ife 


15 


Conscience 

The  Bell  of  the  Angels 

There  has  come  to  my  mind  a  legend, 

A  thing  I  had  half  forgot, 
And,  where  I  read  it  or  dreamed  it  — 

Ah,  well !   it  matters  not. 

It  is  said  in  Heaven,  at  twilight, 
A  great  bell  so  softly  swings, 

And  man  may  listen  and  hearken 
To  the  wondrous  music  that  rings. 

If  he  puts  from  his  heart's  inner  chamber 
All  the  passion,  pain  and  strife. 

Heartache  and  weary  longing 
That  throb  in  the  pulses  of  life. 

If  he  thrust  from  his  soul  all  hatred. 
All  thoughts  of  wicked  things. 

He  can  hear  in  the  holy  twilight 
How  the  bell  of  the  angels  ring. 

And  I  think  there  lies  in  the  legend. 
If  we  open  our  eyes  to  see, 


'**  of  CottBctence 
^  ^unb  entire  is  nee^f " 


16 


(Recipe  for  a 


Conscience 

Somewhat  of  an  inner  meaning, 
My  friend,  to  you  and  me. 

Let  us  look  in  our  hearts  and  question 
Can  purer  thoughts  enter  in 

To  a  soul,  if  it  be  already 

The  dwelling  of  thoughts  of  sin  ? 

So,  then,  let  us  ponder  a  little, 
Let  us  look  in  our  hearts  and  see 

If  the  twilight  bell  of  the  angels 
Could  ring  for  us  —  you  and  me. 


Selected. 


I  feel  within  me 
A  peace  above  all  earthly  dignities, 
A  still  and  quiet  conscience. 


Shakespeare. 


My  conscience  is  my  crown. 


R.  Southwell. 


"*  *  of  ^^Bcience 
(^  ^wunb  entire  is  nee^fuf" 


Conmmu 

Today 

So  here  hath  been  dawning  another  blue  day; 
Think,  wilt  thou  let  it  slip  useless  way? 

Out  of  eternity  this  new  day  is  born ; 
Into  eternity  at  night  will  return. 

Behold  it  aforetime  no  eye  ever  did; 
So  soon  it  forever  from  all  eyes  is  hid. 

Here  hath  been  dawning  another  blue  day; 
Think,  wilt  thou  let  it  slip  useless  away  ? 

—  Thomas  Carlyle. 


Build  today,  then,  strong  and  sure. 

With  a  firm  and  ample  base; 
And  ascending  and  secure 

Shall  tomorrow  find  its  place. 

~  Longfellow. 


Conscience  is  God's  vicegerent  on  earth. 

BOWEN. 


Conecience 

By  thine  own  soul's  law  learn  to  live, 
And  if  men  thwart  thee  take  no  heed, 

And  if  men  hate  thee  have  no  care ; 
Sing  thou  thy  song  and  do  thy  deed. 

Hope  thou  thy  hope  and  pray  thy  prayer. 
And  claim  no  crown  they  will  not  give. 

Nor  bays  they  grudge  thee  for  thy  hair. 

Keep  thou  thy  soul-worn  steadfast  oath. 
And  to  thy  heart  be  true  thy  heart ; 

What  thy  soul  teaches  learn  to  know. 
And  play  out  thine  appointed  part. 

And  thou  shalt  reap  as  thou  shalt  sow. 
Nor  helped  nor  hindered  in  thy  growth. 

To  thy  full  stature  thou  shalt  grow. 

Fix  on  the  future's  goal  thy  face. 
And  let  thy  feet  be  lured  to  stray 

Nowhither,  but  be  swift  to  run. 
And  nowhere  tarry  by  the  way. 

Until  at  last  the  end  is  won. 

And  thou  mayst  look  back  from  thy  place. 

And  see  thy  long  day's  journey  done. 

—  Beatty. 


^appg  Sife 


"*  *  of  ^nscience 
(^  ^unb  cnfire  is  neebfuf " 


Conscience 

Labor  to  keep  alive  in  your  breast  that  little  spark 

of  celestial  fire,  called  Conscience.  „  ,,, 

—  George  Washington. 


In  the  silent  midnight  watches. 

List  —  thy  bosom  door  ! 
How  it  knocketh,  knocketh,  knocketh, 

Knocketh  evermore  ! 
Say  not  'tis  thy  pulses  beating; 

'T  is  thy  heart  of  sin : 

'T  is  thy  Saviour  knocks,  and  crieth, 

Rise  and  let  me  in  !  *    ^   /- 

—  A.  C.  CoxE. 


Guard  well  thy  thought;  our  thoughts  are  heard  in  heaven. 

—  Young. 


Our  acts  our  angels  are,  or  good  or  ill. 
Our  fatal  shadows  that  walk  by  us  still. 


Fletcher. 


'T  is  the  mind  that  makes  the  body  rich. 


—  Selected. 


"(t>f  (paBi{mtB  of  aff  sorfB,  foo, 
^^ufb  Be  gaf^eteb  as  muc3  «b  f0e  6anb 


20 


(B 


^a0^ime^ 


ATHER  ye  rosebuds  while  ye  may. 
Old  Time  is  still  a-flying; 
And  this  same  flower  that  smiles  today, 
Tomorrow  will  be  dying. 


—  Herrick. 


The  mind  ought  sometimes  to  be  diverted,  that  it 

may  return  the  better  to  thinking.  „ 

-'  °  — rn^DRus. 


Nothing  more  preserves  men  in  their  wits. 

Than  giving  of  them  leave  to  play  by  fits. 

In  dreams  to  sport,  and  ramble  with  all  fancies. 

And  waking,  little  less  extravagances ; 

The  rest  and  recreation  of  tired  thought. 

When  'tis  run  down  with  care,  and  overwrought; 

Of  which  whoever  does  not  freely  take 

His  constant  share,  is  never  broad  awake. 

—  Butler. 


Over  the  hills  and  far  awav. 


- —  Gay. 


"€>f  (paBiimts  of  off  sorfe,  foo, 
con  eofb" 


(pa0iime0 


O  gift  of  God !   O  perfed:  day : 
Whereon  shall  no  man  work,  but  play; 
Whereon  it  is  enough  for  me. 
Not  to  be  doing,  but  to  be. 

—  Longfellow. 


Time  for  work, —  yet  take 
Much  holiday  for  art's  and  friendship's  sake. 

—  George  James  de  Wilde. 

Go  forth,  under  the  open  sky,  and  list 
To  Nature's  teachings. 

—  Bryant. 


Nature  ever  yields  reward 

To  him  who  seeks,  and  loves  her  best. 

—  Barry  Cornwall, 


Away  !   I  will  not  be,  today, 

The  only  slave  of  toil  and  care. 

Away  from  desk  and  dust!   away! 
I  '11  be  as  idle  as  the  air. 

—  Bryant. 


"<t>f  (paBiirma  of  aff  Borfe,  foo, 
S^oufb  Be  Qat^ctcb  as  muc3  ob  f  3e  ^anb 
can  aofb" 


(Reci^^e  for  a 


(paa^imee^ 


I  am  a  great  friend  to  public  amusements,  for  they 

keep  people  from  vice. 

^  ^      ^  — Samuel  Johnson. 


Fill  the  bright  goblet,  spread  the  festive  board. 
Summon  the  gay,  the  noble,  and  the  fair. 
Let  mirth  and  music  sound  the  dirge  of  care. 

—  Scott. 

The  mind,  relaxing  into  needful  sport. 

Should  turn  to  writers  of  an  abler  sort. 

Whose  wit  well  managed,  and  whose  classic  style. 

Give  truth  a  lustre,  and  make  wisdom  smile. 

COWPER. 

'T  is  liberty  alone  that  gives  the  flow'r 
Of  fleeting  life  its  lustre  and  perfume. 
And  we  are  weeds  without  it.  „ 

CoWPER. 


'Tis  good  to  be  abroad  in  the  sun. 

—  Lowell. 


^a|)})j  J^ife 


'  W  ^aBHtmB  of  aff  Borfs,  foo, 
jS^oufb  6c  0of  3ctcb  as  muc6  aa  <3«  ^tib 
can  aof^" 


^ae^imee 


The  next  method,  therefore,  that  I  would  propose 
to  fill  up  our  time  should  be  useful  and  innocent  diver- 
sions. . 

__^__  — Addison. 

The  stage  might  be  made  a  perpetual  source  of 
the  most  noble  and  useful  entertainments  were  it  under 
proper  regulations. 


—  Addison. 


But  the  mind  never  unbends  itself  so  agreeably  as  in 
the  conversation  of  a  well-chosen  friend. 

—  Addison. 


Mixing  together  profit  and  delight 


A  man  that  has  a  taste  for  music,  painting,  or  archi- 
tecture, is  like  one  that  has  another  sense,  when  com- 
pared with  such  as  have  no  relish  for  those  arts. 

—  Addison. 


"(bf  (pasiimtB  of  aff  eorfs,  foo, 
^6oufb  Be  saf  ^ereb  as  muc3  as  f  3^  ^cmb 
can  6ofb" 


(pa^iimea 


When  griping  griefs  the  heart  doth  wound, 
And  doleful  dumps  the  mind  oppress, 


* 


* 


* 


* 


* 


Then  music,  with  her  silver  sound. 
With  speedy  help  doth  lend  redress. 


—  Shakespeare. 


Dreams,  books,  are  each  a  world;  and  books,  we  know. 
Are  a  substantial  world,  both  pure  and  good ; 
Round  these,  with  tendrils  strong  as  flesh  and  blood, 
Our  pastime  and  our  happiness  will  grow. 

—  Wordsworth. 

Sweet  recreation  barred,  what  doth  ensue 
But  moody  and  dull  melancholy. 

—  Shakespeare. 


A  day  for  toil,  an  hour  for  sport. 

—  Emerson. 


Friends,  books,  a  garden,  and  perhaps  his  pen. 

COWPER. 


"Of  ^Miimte  of  afF  eotie,  ioo, 
tan  ^ofb" 


(pae^tmee 


No  entertainment  is  so  cheap  as  reading,  nor  any 
pleasure  so  lasting.  ^^        _  ^^^^  j^  ^  Montague. 

Reading  serves  for  delight,  for  ornament,  for  ability. 

—  Bacon. 


The  love  of  reading  enables  a  man  to   exchange 
the  w^earisome  hours  of  life,  v^^hich  come  to  everyone, 

for  hours  of  delight.  ,  , 

°  —  Montesquieu. 


How  sweet  the  moonlight  sleeps  upon  this  bank ! 
Here  will  we  sit,  and  let  the  sounds  of  music 
Creep  in  our  ears :  soft  stillness,  and  the  night. 
Become  the  touches  of  sweet  harmony. 


—  Shakespeare. 


We  have  had  pastime  here,  and  pleasing  game. 


Shakespeare. 


"Of  ^fcaeattf  (Ulcmotg  onb  of  %oipt 
i^xu  goob  brac^ms" 


^age 

26 


(Recij^e  for  a 


Memories. 

FT  I  remember  those  whom  I  have  known 
In  other  days,  to  whom  my  heart  was  led 
As  by  a  magnet,  and  who  are  not  dead. 
But  absent,  and  their  memories  overgrown 
With  other  thoughts  and  troubles  of  my  own. 
As  graves  with  grasses  are,  and  at  their  head 
The  stone  with  moss  and  lichens  so  o'erspread, 
Nothing  is  legible  but  the  name  alone. 
And  is  it  so  with  them?    After  long  years. 
Do  they  remember  me  in  the  same  way. 
And  is  the  memory  pleasant  as  to  me? 
I  fear  to  ask;  yet  wherefore  are  my  fears? 

Pleasures,  like  flowers,  may  wither  and  decay. 
And  yet  the  root  perennial  may  be. 

—  Longfellow. 


I  remember,  I  remember 

How  my  childhood  fleeted  by, — 
The  mirth  of  its  December, 

And  the  warmth  of  its  July. 

—  Praed. 


27 


"Of  ^fcaoanf  Q|lemotg  einb  of  ^o^^ 
f^tee  300b  btftc^ms" 


Oft  in  the  stilly  night, 

Ere  slumber's  chain  has  bound  me. 
Fond  memory  brings  the  light 
Of  other  days  around  me ; 
The  smiles,  the  tears. 
Of  boyhood's  years. 
The  words  of  love  then  spoken ; 
The  eyes  that  shone 
Now  dimmed  and  gone. 
The  cheerful  hearts  now  broken. 

—  Thomas  Moore. 


Sweet  memory,  wafted  by  thy  gentle  gale, 
Oft  up  the  stream  of  Time  I  turn  my  sail, 
To  view  the  fairy-haunts  of  long-lost  hours. 
Blest  with  far  greener  shades,  far  lovelier  flowers. 

—  Rogers. 


I  have  a  room  whereinto  no  one  enters 
Save  I  myself  alone ; 

There  sits  a  blessed  memory  on  a  throne. 
There  my  life  centers. 


—  Christina  G.  Rossetti. 


"<tH  ^eaeatif  (Wlemorg  an'b  of  %o^ 


They  have  not  perished  —  no! 
Kind  words,  remembered  voices  once  so  sweet. 

Smiles,  radiant  long  ago. 
And  features,  the  great  soul's  apparent  seat. 

—  Bryant. 


'T  is  but  a  little  faded  flower, 

But  oh,  how  fondly  dear ! 
'T  will  bring  me  back  one  golden  hour, 

Through  many  a  weary  year. 

_____  — Ellen  C.  HowARTH. 

Ah !   memories  of  sweet  summer  eves, 
Of  moonlit  wave  and  willowy  way. 

Of  stars  and  flowers,  and  dewy  leaves. 

And  smiles  and  tones  more  deaf  than  they! 

____  — Whittier. 

His  years  with  others  must  the  sweeter  be 
For  those  bfief  days  he  spent  in  loving  me. 

___  — George  Eliot. 

For  hope  shall  brighten  days  to  come. 

And  memory  gild  the  past. 

—  Moore. 


29 


'Of  ^caaani  (Jtlemorg  anb  of  l^o^je 
f^tee  goob  btac^ms" 


The  Hope  Indomitable 

King  Hassan,  well  beloved,  was  wont  to  say. 

When  aught  went  wrong  or  any  labor  failed: 
"Tomorrow,  friends,  will  be  another  day  !  " 

And  in  that  faith  he  slept,  and  so  prevailed. 
Long  live  this  proverb !    While  the  world  shall  roll. 

Tomorrows  fresh  shall  rise  from  out  the  night 
And  new-baptize  the  indomitable  soul 

With  courage  for  its  never-ending  fight. 
No  one,  I  say,  is  conquered  till  he  yields. 

And  yield  he  need  not,  while,  like  mist  from  glass, 
God  wipes  the  stain  of  life's  old  battle-fields 

From  every  morning  that  he  brings  to  pass. 
New  day,  new  hope,  new  courage !    Let  this  be, 

O  soul,  thy  cheerful  creed.    What 's  yesterday. 
With  all  its  shards  and  wrack  and  grief  to  thee  ? 

Forget  it,  then  —  here  lies  the  victor's  way. 

_____  — Selected. 

Yet  where  an  equal  poise  of  hope  and  fear 
Does  arbitrate  the  event,  my  nature  is 
That  I  incline  to  hope  rather  than  fear. 

—  Milton. 


'  W  ^feasattf  (Wtcmorg  onb  of  l^ot^^ 
i^tu  0oob  brac^ms" 


(Recipe  for  a 


{pitdBCiYii  QVlemorp  anb  l^ope 


After 

After  the  darkness,  dawning, 

And  stir  of  the  rested  wing ; 
Fresh  fragrance  from  the  meadow. 

Fresh  hope  in  everything. 

After  the  winter,  springtime, 

And  dreams,  that,  flower-like,  throng; 

After  the  tempest,  silence; 
After  the  silence,  song. 

After  the  heat  of  anger. 

Love,  that  all  life  enwraps; 
After  the  stress  of  battle. 

The  trumpet  sounding  "  taps." 

After  regret  and  doubting, 

A  faith  without  alloy, 
God  here  and  over  yonder, — 

The  end  of  all  things — joy! 

—  Florence  Earle  Coates. 


Hope  springs  eternal  in  the  human  breast. 

—  Pope. 


^appj  Sife 


31 


"Of  ^feaeanf  (JHemotg  <mb  of  ^o^je 
i^vu  300b  brftc^ms" 


(pPeaean^  QVlemor^  artb  J^opc 

The  Night  is  mother  of  the  Day, 

The  Winter  of  the  Spring, 
And  ever  upon  old  decay 

The  greenest  mosses  cling. 
Behind  the  cloud  the  starlight  lurks. 

Through  showers  the  sunbeams  fall ; 
For  God,  who  loveth  all  his  works. 

Has  left  His  hope  with  all ! 

_____  — Whittier. 

Hopes,  what  are  they?  —  Beads  of  morning 
Strung  on  slender  blades  of  grass ; 

Or  a  spider's  web  adorning 

In  a  straight  and  treacherous  pass. 

____  — Wordsworth. 

Hope,  like  a  cordial,  innocent,  though  strong, 
Man's  heart  at  once  inspirits  and  serenes. 
Nor  makes  him  pay  his  wisdom  for  his  joys. 

— Young. 


Our  greatest  good,  and  what  we  least  can  spare. 

Is  hope.  T  A 

^  — John  Armstrong. 


'Of  ^easanf  QWemorg  attb  of  ^o^Je 


32 


(Recipe  for  a 


Hope,  like  the  glimm'ring  taper's  light, 

Adorns  and  cheers  the  way; 

And  still  as  darker  grows  the  night. 

Emits  a  brighter  ray.  ^ 

°  ''  — Goldsmith. 


Auspicious  Hope!  in  thy  sweet  garden  grow 
Wreaths  for  each  toil,  a  charm  for  every  woe. 

—  Campbell. 

Work  without  hope  draws  ned:ar  in  a  sieve. 
And  hope  without  an  objed:  cannot  live. 

—  Coleridge. 

Who  bids  me  hope,  and,  in  that  charming  word 
Has  peace  and  transport  to  my  soul  restor'd. 

—  Lord  Lyttleton. 


But  hope  will  make  thee  young,  for  Hope  and  Youth 
Are  children  of  one  mother,  even  Love. 

— Shelley. 


33 


"O^uf  f^eg  B^oufb  moisfeneb  6e 
nOJif  ^  «  ftquor  mabe  from  ^rue  ^feasuteB 
<»5ica  revoke  f^e  3e«rf " 


Cme  (J)Pea0ure0 


UT  of  the  garden  of  playtime,  out  of  the 
bower  of  rest. 
Fain  would  I  follow  at  daytime,  music  that 

calls  to  a  quest. 
Hark,  how  the  galloping  measure 
Quickens  the  pulses  of  pleasure; 
Gaily  saluting  the  morn 
With  the  long,  clear  note  of  the  hunting-horn. 
Echoing  up  from  the  valley, 
Over  the  mountain  side, — 
Rally,  you  hunters,  rally. 
Rally,  and  ride ! 

Drink  of  the  magical  potion  music  has  mixed 

with  her  wine. 
Full  of  the  madness  of  motion,  joyful, 
exultant,  divine! 

Leave  all  your  troubles  behind  you. 
Ride  where  they  never  can  find  you. 
Into  the  gladness  of  morn. 
With  the  long,  clear  note  of  the  hunting-horn. 
Swiftly  o'er  hillock  and  hollow. 

Sweeping  along  with  the  wind, — 
Follow,  you  hunters,  follow. 
Follow,  and  find ! 


"  QBuf  f^eg  B^oufb  moiBfencb  fie 
ODJif  3  ft  t*M|uor  mabe  from  '^tuc  ^fwiButeB 
t»aic3  rcioice  f^  3e«rf " 


(Recipe  for  a 


Crue  (pfeaeure^ 


What  will  you  reach  with  your  riding?    What 

is  the  charm  of  the  chase? 

Just  the  delight  and  the  striding  swing  of  the 

jubilant  pace. 

Danger  is  sweet  when  you  front  her, — 

In  at  the  death,  every  hunter ! 

Now  on  the  breeze  the  mort  is  borne 

In  the  long,  clear  note  of  the  hunting-horn, 

Winding  merrily,  over  and  over, — 

Come,  come,  come! 

Home  again,  Ranger !   home  again,  Rover ! 

Turn  ap;ain,  home!  ..^  ,^      ^ 

°  — Henry  Van  Dyke. 


Our  little  lives  are  kept  in  equipoisej 
By  opposite  attractions  and  desires; 

The  struggle  of  the  instind:  that  enjoys. 
And  the  more  noble  instindt  that  aspires. 

—  Longfellow. 


God  made  all  pleasures  innocent. 

—  Mrs.  Norton. 


^ap^jj  ^ife 


"  ^ui  f^eg  B^oufb  motfifcneb  Be 
n09if  3  ft  fiquor  mabe  from  ^rue  ^feciBureB 
toxica  rejoice  f^eaeciri" 


Ctrue  (|)Pea0ure0 


One  by  one  ( bright  gifts  from  Heaven ) 
Joys  are  sent  thee  here  below; 

Take  them  readily  when  given. 
Ready  too,  to  let  them  go. 


— Ingelow. 


The  streams  of  small  pleasures  fill  the  lake  of  happiness. 

—  Selected. 

All  common  things,  each  day's  events. 
That  with  the  hour  begin  and  end. 

Our  pleasures  and  our  discontents. 

Are  rounds  by  which  we  may  ascend. 

—  Longfellow. 

There  are  as  many  pleasant  things. 

As  many  pleasant  tones 
For  those  who  dwell  by  cottage  hearths. 

As  those  who  sit  on  thrones. 

—  Phcebe  Cary. 


Pleasure  and  ad:ion  make  the  hours  seem  short. 

—  Shakespeare. 


"  Ql^uf  (3^8  B^oufb  moiBfencb  6e 
<Wif  3  «  fiquor  mabe  from  ^rue  ^feaButee 
t»3ic3  reioice  i^  3earf " 


(Recipe  for  a 


Ctue  (J)Pea0ute0 


A  man  should  endeavour  *  *  *  to  make  the  sphere 
of  his  innocent  pleasures  as  wide  as  possible,  that  he  may- 
retire  into  them  with  safety,  and  find  in  them  such  a 
satisfad:ion  as  a  wise  man  would  not  blush  to  take. 


Addison. 


Live  while  you  live,  the  epicure  would  say, 
And  seize  the  pleasures  of  the  present  day ; 
Live  while  you  live,  the  sacred  preacher  cries. 
And  give  to  God  each  moment  as  it  flies; 
Lord,  in  my  views  let  both  united  be; 
I  live  in  pleasure,  when  I  live  to  thee. 

—  Doddridge. 


Know,  dear  little  one,  that  Heaven 

Does  no  earthly  thing  disdain, 

Man's  poor  joys  find  there  an  echo 

Just  as  surely  as  his  pain. 


Proctor. 


'J^<^PP2  ^^f^ 


37 


Bot>e^0  QYla^c  ®rop0 

Love  and  Light 
^■^^HERE  are  many  kinds  of  love,  as  many  kinds  of 

(T     light. 

^^^  And  every  kind  of  love  makes  a  glory  in  the 

night. 

There  is  love  that  stirs  the  heart,  and  love  that  gives  it 

rest, 

But  the  love  that  leads  life  upward  is  the  noblest  and 

the  best.  ^^      .^ 

—  Van  Dyke. 


Be  strong  to  love,  O  Heart! 

Love  knows  not  wrong; 
Didst  thou  love  —  creatures  even, 

Life  were  not  long; 
Didst  thou  love  God  in  heaven, 

Thou  wouldst  be  strong! 

—  Proctor. 

Love 's  a  pleasure,  solid,  real. 

Nothing  fanciful,  ideal, 

'T  is  the  bliss  of  humankind. 

—  Thomas  Chatterton. 


iKttattcnt 


^t>e^0  QYla^ic  ©rope 

The  Prison  and  the  Angel 

Self  is  the  only  prison  that  can  ever  bind  the  soul ; 

Love  is  the  only  angel  who  can  bid  the  gates  unroll; 

And  when  he  comes  to  call  thee,  arise  and  follow  fast ; 

His  way  may  lie  through  darkness,  but  it  leads  to 

light  at  last. 

— Van  Dyke. 


What  is  love?  'Tis  Nature's  treasure, 

'Tis  the  storehouse  of  her  joys; 
'Tis  the  highest  heaven  of  pleasure, 

'Tis  a  bliss  which  never  cloys. 

-Thomas  Chatterton. 


There  is  no  service  like  his  that  serves  because  he  loves. 

—  Sir  Phillip  Sidney. 


Life  is  less  than  nothing  without  love. 

Bailey. 


39 


't^n  of  feotje'e  dtlogtc  ©to^jb, 
ft  few" 


^t)e^0  QYla^c  ©rop^ 

Talk  not  of  wasted  afFediion,  affection  never  was  wasted; 

If  it  enrich  not  the  heart  of  another,  its  waters,  returning 

Back  to  their  springs,  like  the  rain,  shall  fill  them  full 

of  refreshment ; 

That  which  the  fountain  sends  forth  returns  again  to  the 

fountain. 

—  Longfellow. 


O  merchant  at  heaven's  mart  for  heavenly  ware ! 
Love  is  the  only  coin  that  passes  there. 

—  French. 


Learn  that  to  love  is  the  one  way  to  know. 

Or  God  or  man :  it  is  not  love  received 

That  maketh  man  to  know  the  inner  life 

Of  them  that  love  him ;  his  own  love  bestowed 

Shall  do  it.  _ 

—  Jean  Ingelow. 


Love  is  rest. 


—  Bayard  Taylor. 


tammm 


'^n  of  |^ot)e'B  (JUagic  'Btopa, 
aftt»" 


(Recipe  for  a 


^t?e^0  QYla^c  ©rop^ 


One  World 

"The  worlds  in  which  we  live  are  two, 
The  world  *I  am'  and  the  world  *I  do.'" 
The  worlds  in  which  we  live  at  heart  are  one. 
The  world  "I  am,"  the  fruit  of  "I  have  done"; 
And  underneath  these  worlds  of  flower  and  fruit. 
The  world  "I  love," — the  only  living  root. 

—  Van  Dyke. 


The  night  has  a  thousand  eyes. 

And  the  day  but  one; 
Yet  the  light  of  the  bright  world  dies 

With  the  dying  sun. 

The  mind  has  a  thousand  eyes. 

And  the  heart  but  one; 
Yet  the  light  of  a  whole  life  dies 

When  love  is  done. 

—  Francis  William  Bourdillon. 


Love  better  is  than  Fame. 

—  Bayard  Taylor. 


^<^W2  Bife 


't^n  of  feotje's  (glagtc  ©ro^w, 
afet»" 


^ot>e'0  QVlagtc  ©rope^ 


Abou  Ben  Adhem  and  the  Angel 
Abou  Ben  Adhem  ( may  his  tribe  increase ! ) 
Awoke  one  night  from  a  deep  dream  of  peace. 
And  saw,  within  the  moonlight  of  his  room. 
Making  it  rich,  and  like  a  lily  in  bloom, 
An  angel  writing  in  a  book  of  gold  — 
Exceeding  peace  had  made  Ben  Adhem  bold. 
And  to  the  presence  in  the  room  he  said, 
"What  writest  thou?"    The  vision  raised  its  head. 
And  with  a  look  made  all  of  sweet  accord, 
Answer'd,  "The  names  of  those  who  love  the  Lord." 
"And  is  mine  one"?  said  Abou.    "Nay,  not  so," 
Replied  the  angel.    Abou  spoke  more  low. 
But  cheerily  still,  and  said,  "  I  pray  thee,  then. 
Write  me  as  one  who  loves  his  fellow  men." 
The  angel  wrote  and  vanish'd.    The  next  night 
It  came  again  with  a  great  wakening  light. 
And  show'd  the  names  whom  love  of  God  had  bless'd. 
And  lo !   Ben  Adhem's  name  led  all  the  rest. 

=  — Leigh  Hunt. 

Whoever  lives  true  life  will  love  true  love. 

—  Mrs,  Browning. 


i-kiM 


mrntrnp*' 


'^n  of  ^te'fi  (JXlae^  <S>topB, 
afetw" 


(Recipe  for  a 


^t?e^0  QYla^ic  ©rope 

Love,  indeed,  is  light  from  heaven; 
A  spark  of  that  immortal  fire 
With  angels  shared,  by  Allah  given, 
To  lift  from  earth  our  low  desire. 
Devotion  wafts  the  mind  above. 
But  heaven  itself  descends  in  love; 
A  feeling  from  the  Godhead  caught. 
To  wean  from  self  each  sordid  thought; 
A  ray  of  Him  who  form'd  the  whole ; 
A  glory  circling  round  the  soul ! 

____  — Byron. 

Love  is  too  precious  to  be  named, 
Save  with  a  reverence  deep  and  high. 

____  — Alice  Cary. 

I  hold  it  true,  whate'er  befall, 
I  feel  it  when  I  sorrow  most; 
'T  is  better  to  have  loved  and  lost. 
Than  never  to  have  loved  at  all. 

_^__  — Tennyson. 

Love  comforteth,  like  sunshine  after  rain. 

—  Shakespeare. 


^^VV2  Sife 


't^n  of  feotye'B  (magic  ©rofe, 
afet»" 


^ot)e^0  QVla^c  ©rop^ 

True  love's  the  gift  which  God  has  given 

To  man  alone  beneath  the  heaven; 

It  is  not  fantasy's  hot  fire. 

Whose  wishes,  soon  as  granted,  fly ; 

It  liveth  not  in  fierce  desire. 

With  dead  desire  it  doth  not  die; 

It  is  the  secret  sympathy. 

The  silver  link,  the  silken  tie. 

Which  heart  to  heart,  and  mind  to  mind. 

In  body  and  in  soul  can  bind. 

—  Scott. 


He  asked  her  once  again,  "  What  hearest  thou  ? 

What  means  the  voice  of  Life?"  She  answered,  "  Love! 

For  love  is  life  and  they  who  do  not  love 

Are  not  alive.    But  every  soul  that  loves, 

Lives  in  the  heart  of  God  and  hears  Him  speak." 

—  Van  Dyke. 

Love  rules  the  court,  the  camp,  the  grove. 
And  men  below,  and  saints  above; 
For  love  is  heaven,  and  heaven  is  love. 

—  Sir  Walter  Scott. 


'<Bnnb  f3c  t»3ofe  an'b  mix  f6etet»if3 
of  Q[nerrimcnf,  an  ouna" 


44 


(Recipe  for  a 


QYlemmen^ 

LITTLE  of  thy  merriment, 
Of  thy  sparkling,  light  content. 
Give  me,  my  cheerful  brook, — 
That  I  may  still  be  full  of  glee 
And  gladsomeness,  where'er  I  be. 
Though  fickle  fate  hath  prisoned  me 
In  some  neglected  nook. 

—  Lowell. 

Cheeriness  is  a  thing  to  be  more  profoundly  grate- 
ful for  than  all  that  genius  ever  inspired  or  talent  ever 
accomplished.  Next  best  to  natural,  spontaneous  cheer- 
iness is  deliberate,  intended  and  persistent  cheeriness, 
which  we  can  create,  can  cultivate,  and  can  so  foster  and 
cherish  that  after  a  few  years  the  world  will  never  sus- 

ped:  it  was  not  a  hereditary  gift. 

—  Helen  Hunt  Jackson. 

A  laugh  is  worth  a  hundred  groans  in  any  market. 

ROSSETTI. 


Laugh  if  you  are  wise. 

—  Addison. 


^a^^pj  &if(t 


'(Brinb  f^e  t»6ofe  cinb  mtx  f^eretwtf^ 
of  (Jtlerrtmenf,  cm  ounce" 


QVlemmenf 


Bear  through  sorrow,  wrong,  and  ruth. 
In  thy  heart  the  dew  of  youth. 
On  thy  lips  the  smile  of  truth. 

Oh,  that  dew,  like  balm,  shall  steal 
Into  wounds  that  cannot  heal. 
Even  as  sleep  our  eyes  doth  seal ; 

And  that  smile,  like  sunshine,  dart 
Into  many  a  sunless  heart. 
For  a  smile  of  God  thou  art. 

—  Longfellow. 

'Tis  not  in  title  nor  in  rank, 

'Tis  not  in  wealth  like  London  bank. 

To  make  us  truly  blest. 

If  happiness  have  not  her  seat 

And  center  in  the  breast. 

We  may  be  wise,  or  rich  or  great, 

But  never  can  be  blest. 

• — Selected. 

Smiles  live  long  after  frowns  have  faded. 

—  James  A.  Garfield. 


"■"■  I 


QYlemmenf 

Seasons 

'Tis  April  in  November, 
If  you  will  make  it  so, 
Or  Maytime  in  December, 
Despite  the  falling  snow, 
If  only  you'll  remember 
Your  smiles  make  roses  blow. 

*Tis  spring  in  autumn  weather 

If  you  will  sing  all  day, 

And  smiles  and  songs  together 

Turn  winter  into  May; 

The  snow  will  be  like  heather 

If  only  you  are  gay. 


Selected. 


Joy  is  the  mainspring  in  the  whole 

Of  endless  Nature's  calm  rotation. 
Joy  moves  the  dazzling  wheels  that  roll 

In  the  great  Timepiece  of  Creation. 

_____  — Schiller. 

A  good  laugh  is  sunshine  in  the  house. 

—  Thackeray, 


5  W2  ^^f^ 


'(Bnnb  i^c  t»3ofe  anb  mix  f^etetwCi^ 
of  (jnerrimenf,  on  ounce" 


QYlemmenf 

Joy  and  Duty 

"Joy  is  a  Duty," — so  with  golden  lore 
The  Hebrew  rabbis  taught  in  days  of  yore. 
And  happy  human  hearts  heard  in  their  speech 
Almost  the  highest  wisdom  man  can  reach. 

But  one  bright  peak  still  rises  far  above. 
And  there  the  Master  stands,  whose  name  is  Love, 
Saying  to  those  whom  weary  tasks  employ : 
"Life  is  divine  when  Duty  is  a  Joy." 

— Van  Dyke. 


The  merriest  folks  are  the  best,  I  know. 

For  those  who  are  laughing  and  gay. 

Are  the  ones  who  are  willing  to  stop  and  show 

Tired  people  an  easier  way.  ^         .    ^^ 

^     ^  •'  — Card  A.  Dugan. 


The  sunshine  of  life  is  made  up  of  very  little  beams, 

which  are  bright  all  the  time.  „ 

°  — Selected. 


"(Brtnb  f^c  t»6ofe  atib  mix  f3ctet»tf3 
of  (Jtlcrrimcnf,  an  ounce" 


QYlemmenf 

Hence  we  may  learn, 
That  though  it  be  a  grand  and  comely  thing 
To  be  unhappy, —  ( and  we  think  it  is. 
Because  so  many  grand  and  clever  folk 
Have  found  out  reasons  for  unhappiness ) 
*    *     *    yet,  since  we  are  not  grand, 
O,  not  at  all,  and  as  for  cleverness. 
That  may  or  may  not  be, —  it  is  well 
For  us  to  be  as  happy  as  we  can ! 

—  Jean  Ingelow. 


The  world  is  so  full  of  a  number  of  things, 
I  'm  sure  we  should  all  be  as  happy  as  kings. 

—  R.  L.  Stevenson. 


All  who  joy  w^ould  win 
Must  share  it, —  happiness  was  born  a  twin. 

—  Byron. 


It's  gude  to  be  merry  and  wise. 

—  Old  Scotch  Song. 


^a|?f>g  j^ife 


"(Brmb  f3e  t»3ofe  anb  mix  f5cret»if3 
of  (jnerrimenf,  an  ounce" 


QVlemmenf 

I  opened  the  doors  of  my  heart.    And  behold, 
There  was  music  within  and  a  song, 
And  echoes  did  feed  on  the  sweetness,  repeating  it  long. 
I  opened  the  doors  of  my  heart.    And  behold, 
There  was  music  that  played  itself  out  in  solian  notes ; 
Then  was  heard,  as  a  far-away  bell  at  long  intervals  tolled. 

— Jean  Ingelow. 


What  then  remains,  but  well  our  power  to  use. 
And  keep  good  humor  still,  whate'er  we  lose? 
And  trust  me,  dear,  good  humor  can  prevail. 
When  airs,  and  flights,  and  screams,  and  scolding,  fail. 

—  Pope. 


It  is  good 
To  lengthen  to  the  last  a  sunny  mood. 

—  Lowell. 


A  merry  heart  goes  all  the  day. 


Shakespeare. 


"*Bcf  off  f^tB  wag  nof  Bring  ^apipimaB 
<Sxcc:pf  ttt  gour  ^rieotiB  gou  fif(  gour  tjotce 
^o  itim  t»^  3ofl)B  t^c  sift  of  ^eaft^" 


(Recipe  for  a 


Faith 

God,  whose  thunder  shakes  the  sky. 
Whose  eye  this  atom  globe  surveys. 

To  thee,  my  only  rock,  I  fly. 
Thy  mercy  in  thy  justice  praise. 

The  mystic  mazes  of  thy  will. 
The  shadows  of  celestial  light. 

Are  past  the  power  of  human  skill ; 
But  what  the  Eternal  adts  is  right. 

O,  teach  me  in  the  trying  hour. 

When  anguish  swells  the  dewy  tear, 

To  still  my  sorrows,  own  thy  power. 
Thy  goodness  love,  thy  justice  fear. 


Thomas  Chatterton. 


A  good  man's  prayers 
Will  from  the  deepest  dungeon  climb  Heaven's  height 
And  brin?  a  blessinsr  down.  ^  „ 

°  °  JOANNA   BaILLIE. 


Prayer  is  the  spirit  speaking  truth  to  Truth. 

—  Bailey. 


51 


^xctipi  in  gour  OrtBons  gou  f if f  gour  t?otce 
to  §im  <»5o  ^ofbe  f^e  gift  of  3eaff 3" 


For  All  These 

I  thank  thee.  Lord,  that  I  am  straight  and  strong, 
With  wit  to  work  and  hope  to  keep  me  brave; 

That  two-score  years,  unfathomed,  still  belong 
To  the  allotted  life  thy  bounty  gave. 

I  thank  thee  that  the  sight  of  sunlit  lands 

And  dipping  hills,  the  breath  of  evening  grass  — 

That  wet,  dark  rocks  and  flowers  in  my  hands 
Can  give  me  daily  gladness  as  I  pass. 

I  thank  thee  that  I  love  the  things  of  earth  — 
Ripe  fruits  and  laughter  lying  down  to  sleep. 

The  shine  of  lighted  towns,  the  graver  worth 
Of  beating  human  hearts  that  laugh  and  weep. 

I  thank  thee  that  as  yet  I  need  not  know. 
Yet  need  not  fear,  the  mystery  of  the  end ; 

But  more  than  all,  and  though  all  these  should  go  — 
Dear  Lord,  this  on  my  knees !  —  I  thank  thee 

for  my  friend.        ^^^     —Juliet  Wilbor  Tompkins. 

A  prayer,  in  its  simplest  definition,  is  merely  a  wish 


turned  Godward, 


—  Phillips  Brooks. 


'^ef  aff  f3tB  ma^  noi  Bring  ^apipimBB 
^xctpi  in  gout  ^rieons  gou  fift  gout  tjotce 
to  ^itn  t»eo  6ofbB  f  6e  gtft  of  ^eaft^" 


(J)age 

52 


(Recipe  for  a 


(Dn0on0 

The  prayer  of  Ajax  was  for  light; 
Through  all  that  dark  and  desperate  fight. 
The  blackness  of  that  noonday  night, 
He  asked  but  the  return  of  sight, 
To  see  his  foeman's  face. 

Let  our  unceasing,  earnest  prayer 
Be,  too,  for  light, —  for  strength  to  bear 
Our  portion  of  the  weight  of  care 
That  crushes  into  dumb  despair 
One-half  the  human  race. 

—  Longfellow. 


More  things  are  wrought  by  prayer 
Than  this  world  dreams  of. 

—  Tennyson. 


Be  not  afraid  to  pray  —  to  pray  is  right. 
Pray,  if  thou  canst,  with  hope;   but  ever  pray. 
Though  hope  be  weak  or  sick  with  long  delay; 
Pray  in  the  darkness  if  there  be  no  light. 

—  Hartley  Coleridge. 


Matins 

Flowers,  when  the  night  is  done, 
Lift  their  heads  to  greet  the  sun; 
Sweetest  looks  and  odours  raise, 
In  a  silent  hymn  of  praise. 

So  my  heart  would  turn  away 
From  the  darkness  to  the  day; 
Lying  open,  in  God's  sight. 

As  a  flower  in  the  light. 

—  Van  Dyke. 

Not  what  we  wish,  but  what  we  want. 

Oh!  let  thy  grace  supply. 
The  good  unask'd,  in  mercy  grant; 

The  ill,  though  ask'd,  deny. 

—  Merrick. 

*    *    *    O  Lord,  to  me  impart 
An  innocent  and  grateful  heart. 
That  after  my  last  sleep  I  may 
Awake  to  thy  eternal  day!   Amen. 

—  S.  T.  Coleridge. 


HERE  ENDS  THE  "RECIPE  FOR  A  HAPPY  LIFE" 
BY  THAT  WISE  QUEEN,  MARGARET  OF  NAVARRE 
WITH  ADDITIONS  FLAVORED  FOR  THE  MODERN 
PALATE.  COMPILED  FROM  THE  WRITINGS  OF 
DIVERS  AUTHORS  BY  MARIE  WEST  KING,  PUB- 
LISHED BY  PAUL  ELDER  AND  COMPANY,  WHO 
VOUCH  IT  TO  BE  WHOLESOME  AND  PRACTICAL 
AND  PRINTED  FOR  THEM  BY  THEIR  TOMOYE 
PRESS  UNDER  THE  CAREFUL  DIRECTION  OF 
TOHN  HENRY  NASH  AT  THEIR  SHOP  IN  THE 
PLEASANT  CITY  OF  SAN  FRANCISCO  IN  THE  YEAR 
OF  OUR  LORD  NINETEEN  HUNDRED  ^  ELEVEN 


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